


It Might Sting a Little

by CurrieBelle



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ear Piercings, Gen, It's not exactly Percy/Vex, Pre-stream shenanigans, more just...Vex being herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurrieBelle/pseuds/CurrieBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone in Vox Machina must have pierced ears so they can use the magic whisper earrings. Ergo, an ear piercing fic that turned into a Percy character study, because of course it did. Set just before the stream, right when Vox Machina's about to get their keep, parade, and council seats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Might Sting a Little

“Absolutely not!”

“It’s this or we stick it through your nose, de Rolo.”

Percival backed up into the bedframe, bumping his hip against one of the posts. The pain stopped him, but only for a moment: he was being hunted, after all. The twins stood in the doorway, staring at him with matching wolfish grins. Vex carried a glass of clear liquid – he could smell its alcoholic sting from halfway across the room – and a cup full of ice. Vax held a long, thick sewing needle, as one might use for stitching leather, and a gaudy gold earring with a deep blue gem in it. The little bauble was only about the size of a fingernail, but it presented such a threat to Percival’s dignity that he repressed the urge to hiss at it like an angry snake.

Not that such a reaction would have been terribly dignified either, but at least it would be over and done with in front of only two witnesses. They wanted him to wear that glittery little thing _all the time._ In _public._ In the _parade_ that they were all set to be in, a mere three days from now. Good gods.

“I don’t know about this,” he said, slipping around the corner of the bed, and retreating further. He was only one story up from the ground. If tactics of persuasion failed, he could always make for the window. With any luck, shock would give him a head start, and he could flee the city before the twins caught up. “Maybe," he said, stalling them as he grappled for an excuse, "-maybe you should do Keyleth’s first. She’ll need – emotional support, I’m certain.”

“Keyleth?” Vex said, bemused. She had a very expressive face, and Percival could see every ounce of her derision: cocked eyebrow, lopsided smirk and all. “No, she took it like a champion. Didn’t even cry.”

“Scanlan’s already got three in each ear-“ Vax added, and the twins rattled off a list, bouncing their phrases off one another;

“-we’ve had ours for years-“

“-Pike and Grog did each other’s this morning-“

“-who knows where we’d stick one on Tiberius-“

“-so that just leaves you, Percy.”

You, _Percy_. The nickname still made him flinch – almost physically, sometimes, as if someone were prodding him with a twig. He was not _Percy._ That was a stable-boy name, a lapdog name, a little affectionate token that didn’t belong to him. He’d given up on correcting everyone, but not quite on resenting them for it. Keyleth and Pike probably did it because they thought it was cute, Scanlan most certainly did it to tease, Tiberius out of bumbling, mindless habit, Vax because he was too lazy for all three syllables, Grog because he probably couldn’t _remember_ all three syllables, and Vex – who still called him “Percival” half the time – flung it out when she wanted to catch him off guard. And it _always_ worked, damn it. If she wanted him to flail in surprise at something, she had a perfectly good tamed bear for that.

He wasn’t _used_ to this. Seven people fluttering about him all the time, sharing their lunches and calling him nicknames and watching his back in a fight. He was sincerely grateful to all of them for the company, for the aid, but what was he supposed to do? He wasn’t a nicknamey, snack-sharing kind of person. It had taken him weeks (and several bitter sneers directed his way) just to get out of the habit of _Vax’ildan_ and _Vex’ahlia._

Speaking of which, Vax and Vex were still bearing down on him, and quite literally backing him into a corner. The space held a pair of rickety wooden chairs and a little round table – oh gods. They were steering him towards their operating station. He stammered, “I can’t – can’t I just hold onto it? Wear it as a cufflink, perhaps?”

“Why are you so _jittery_ , Percy?” Vex asked him, stopping in her tracks as a slight hint of real concern touched her eyes. “It’s just a quick prick and it’s over with.”

“Listen, you know I’m nobility,” he argued. He put one hand on the back of the nearest chair, swung it around, and planted it between himself and the twins. “I can’t go prancing around looking like some kind of gaudy, preening street performer!”

Silence. He could hear his own harsh breathing. He’d been too dramatic. Cautiously, he let go of the chair.

“Percival. Darling.” Vex said, in the same voice she used to explain things to Trinket. “We found you in a _prison.”_

Her brother added, “Perhaps it’s time to let that past of yours go.”

Vax had a quieter face than his sister – more serious. When he wasn’t in a pranking mood, he seemed perpetually concerned about something, all low eyebrows and faint frowns. And this time the concern was directed at him, at ' _Percy'._

“You said you wouldn’t ask,” he reminded them, quietly.

“And we won’t,” Vex reassured him.

What would he say, if they did? The deep, bodily ache of starving in a black dungeon, the bright blood of his family pooling on the dinner table, the stunning sting of the freezing river – the dizzying haze of a black smoke dream-

They were watching him. Under their eyes, the memories had to be shoved away. They never made for an appropriate topic of conversation.

But they would never ask. That promise brought him an unfamiliar comfort, a deep thankfulness that felt almost instinctual.

Hells. They trusted him without knowing a thing about him. At the very least, he could trust them to stick a needle in his ear. Percy stepped around the chair, sat down, and grumbled, “Oh, very well, if you feel you must.”

Vex gave a blinding smile, raised both glasses like a mock toast, and then slammed them down on the table with a slight splash of liquid. Vax brandished the needle, his prankster smile returning, and asked, “Alright, fancy-pants. Which ear?”

“Well, I don’t particularly have a favourite,” Percy huffed. The twins shrugged – he still wasn’t quite used to that, to their disturbing tendency to synchronize their movements – and bent over towards him.

A quick shot of panic going off in his gut, Percy held up both his hands prohibitively, squawking, “Hold on!” When they paused, he snatched the drink from the table, took a heavy swig (whatever it was, it tasted as he imagined hydrochloric acid would), and slammed it back down. “Alright, go.”

“Ew,” Vax said flatly.

“We put the needle in that,” Vex informed him, looking stunned. “To make it clean.”

“We're all going to die anyway,” Percy said, his voice determined and grim.

The twins both tried and failed to hide their smirks.

“Get on with it,” Percy snapped.

Vax grabbed his chin and turned his head sharply to the left with all the merciless efficiency of a man fixing a machine. Trying to keep an eye on the proceedings, Percy glared at him sideways. He caught the sounds of Vex’s fingers chasing an ice cube through the glass. Vax was watching him, too, inspecting him closely. After a moment, he chuckled and turned to his sister. “Lookit this. Humans have such teeny little ears."

“Adorable,” she confirmed. The glass made a glittering noise against her fingernails.

“Is that going to make it harder for you?” Percy asked, scrunching his hands into the fabric of his trousers.

“I like a challenge,” Vax said lightly. Vex joined her brother, and something cold and damp pressed against Percy’s earlobe. He thrashed away from it instinctively, with an inelegant yelp.

“He’s going to squirm, isn’t he?” Vex complained.

 “I’m not used to being touched.”

Without further ado, Vex swatted his hands off his knees. She swung her leg over his chair, sat square in his lap, and grabbed his jaw. Her fingers clawed chillingly into his skin, still clammy and dripping. With her other hand, she pressed the ice cube to his ear once more, and this time, her strict grip wouldn’t let him flinch away. “Like this, you mean?” she said, a smug laugh bubbling up through her voice.

His first instinct was to stammer out _oh, gods, please go away, this is terrifying,_ but his tongue didn’t seem to be working. Her black eyes flickered across his face, chasing the burning blush that climbed up his cheeks. After a moment, she looked properly worried again, and he hastily replied, “No, this is – um – fine.”

“Amazing how much you’re learning today,” she said. Her wolfish smile returned, and grew ever more predatory.

As she spoke – while he was distracted by all that _completely inappropriate_ heat and weight and contact – Vax pinched his ear, right out from under the ice, and stabbed it through. The chill had numbed it somewhat, but there was enough of a surprising jab of pain that he gave a short yelp. Vax ignored him, and Percy felt the needle pull clear from his flesh ( _ugh_ , what a strange sensation, like pulling out an arrow for how it tugged at his skin, but also like nicking his throat with a straight-razor, for how long it took the pain to well up after the incision). A moment passed, and then Vex’s fingers dug into his jaw a little harder, and he felt the strange weight of the earring poke through his flesh. Vax slipped the clasp on the back, careful not to pinch the skin, and the earring stayed.

“There! I think it looks pretty dashing, don’t you?” Vex chirped, thumping Percy soundly on the chest, halfway between a comforting pat and some sort of jocular attempt at cracking his ribs.

“Matches the jacket,” Vax noted. Percy could hear more clattering metal and glass, and opened his eyes, failing to remember when he had closed them. “Don’t take it out or it’ll heal,” Vax instructed. “As much fun as this was, I don’t wanna do it all over again.”

Vex laughed in Percy’s freshly-pierced, dully-stinging ear, and kissed him on the cheek. “Welcome to Vox Machina, darling.”

She bounced back up onto her feet. Vax ruffled Percy's hair, flicking his head off to the side with the gesture. While Percy recovered, the pair of them gathered up their tools and left him alone in his room. Vex called over her shoulder with a reminder that they were meeting downstairs for drinks after sundown.

Once he heard the door squeak closed, Percy stood. He walked to the window, and shifted around in front of the glass until the light caught it properly. At the right angle, he could see his reflection, and he stared at himself hard in the makeshift mirror.

He looked alarmingly different. When he was a proper noble, he wouldn’t have been caught dead in a jacket so ratty and ill-fitting. His white hair looked unnatural and eerie, the mark of a trauma he had yet to truly investigate. He felt big, almost awkward – big in the shoulders with all the muscle built from fishing and forging and fighting – nowhere near the bookish lad his brothers had so often called _scrawny_. The earring made him look exactly as undignified as he’d feared, and he desperately needed a shave.

Strangest of all, though – he was smiling. A lost, disbelieving sort of grin. He looked like an absolute lunatic with that expression, with the tattered clothes and the gaudy jewelry. Certainly not a man he would have stooped to speaking with five years ago.

But things had changed. These days, he’d grown a touch more accepting. He traveled with a blood-frenzied goliath, a pint-sized bard and a bear named _Trinket_ , after all.

So whoever this “Percy” fellow was, perhaps he could learn to tolerate him, too.


End file.
